


Loving Hands

by bookjunkiecat



Series: Mystrade Story Times [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mycroft gives Greg TLC, Sick Fic, established relationsip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: Greg's feeling every one of his years, and finding life harder than usual. Luckily he has his loving Mycroft to look after him in his time of need.This story is now available to readin Russian





	Loving Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Twitter (@savvyblunders) for #MystradeStoryTimes as a gift for siriusblue/ @redgreyandpurp1

Greg fumbled to open the child safety cap. This was ridiculous, there were no children in the house. Why should he be forced to struggle with his painful hands to get at the pills he needed to help said hands? He finally got it open, cursing his clumsy fingers. Bad enough his damned arthritis was flaring, with his left knee giving him absolute hell. But to cap it, his hands were murder right now. Carpel tunnel surgery would be worth it, but not so soon after surgery. With bone-deep gratitude he heard the front door opening and Mycroft calling for him. "In the loo," Greg yelled, abandoning the struggle and shuffling gingerly out into the hall.

Mycroft took one look at him and his face creased sympathetically, "Bad day?"

"Better now you're here." Greg pouted outrageously, "Kiss?"

Chuckling, Mycroft obliged, rubbing his back soothingly, "You look like hell, darling."

"Feel like it too," Greg grumbled, relishing Myc's kiss on his temple. He didn't normally whine, but today had been particularly bad, "Missed you."

"Sorry, darling," Mycroft sighed, guiding him to the bedroom. "My presence at the meeting was unavoidable. I'm home now though. Why don't you lie down whilst I fetch your pills and water? Then maybe a bath...?"

It sounded _brilliant,_ "Don't think I can get up and down," Greg admitted, and was assured by his husband that he was being silly and all would be handled to leave him comfortable. With Myc's able help, Greg was soon ensconced in the oversize tub, up to his chin in hot water and Epsom salts. Myc, because he was brilliant, had tipped in a generous measure of Greg's favourite bubble bath as well, and just the smell was soothing. The pill bottle had been dealt with ruthlessly and Greg could already feel the effects. Mycroft washed his hair gently while they chatted about their day. Greg's eyes slid closed and he sighed from his toes, "So good to me."

"Not nearly as good as you deserve," Myc countered, tipping Greg's head back to rinse. He poured water over Greg's hair until it ran clear then stood, "I'll order dinner and come back shortly to help you, darling."

Alone, Greg drifted, smiling slightly. His knee was a bastard even with the pills. Somehow though it didn't hurt _quite_ so bad now he was being looked after. Myc returned, "All taken care of." He dipped his fingers into the water, "No wonder you're shivering, the water's getting cold. Let's get you on your feet," he commanded lovingly, and Greg reached for him, trusting that Myc would take care of him.

Once he was upright, Myc dried him tenderly and fussed him into bed, returning with towels and a bottle of essential oil. The massage which followed left Greg groaning happily into his pillow, "Sorry'm not carrying on for another reason."

"Plenty of time for that," Myc soothed, kissing his ear affectionately. His fingers worked magic, as Greg drifted. He was nearly asleep, and it was tempting to let himself drift under, but he'd been longing to spend time with his husband, and it was pretty poor payment to Myc's tender care if he fell asleep early and left him to eat on his own.

All too soon the bell rang and Myc disappeared to fetch dinner, as Greg shook himself awake and pulled on his comfiest pyjama bottoms and a thin t-shirt. Returning with a laden tray of fragrant Indian takeaway, he smiled at Greg, who had rolled over into his spot. Leg aloft on pillows, face relaxed, Greg smiled back. "Curry, telly and bed?"

"Brilliant," Greg declared softly, stealing a samosa and a kiss.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 4/18/19 I did some quick edits to formatting that were bothering me since this was posted on Twitter with character restrictions. I added one or two tiny details but nothing that changes the story at all!


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